


and the sea calls you

by MoraMew



Series: Writing prompt warm-ups [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Emperor!Daishou, Empress!Yachi, F/M, Homesickness, Maid!Mika, Pining, Political Marriages, mentions of drinking as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: “Did you not take your medicine today?” he asks her, thumb pressing into her cheek and slowly smoothing across her flesh. The movement makes Hitoka close her eyes and she imagines- just for a brief moment- that his hands are more rough, scarred from fierce battles and building cabins and scaling the faces of cliffs to reach old temples and pray to strange gods.Would she be happier in the mountains? Would she be better in a place that still does not have the sea, but instead has cold and snow and fur cloaks and arms that feel like shelter?She does not know.She wishes that she did.





	and the sea calls you

**Author's Note:**

> ah, this is a warm up that got away from me. the prompt reminded me of a royalty au that i've been daydreaming about writing for ages and this ended up being a small one-shot of something that i would probably end up writing for it.
> 
> Maybe one day, when I have the time.
> 
> i used [this generator](https://thestoryshack.com/tools/writing-prompt-generator/) for the writing prompt. from it i got:  
> Word count: 350  
> Genre: Drama  
> Character: A princess  
> Material: A comb  
> Sentence: "Life was better on the other side."  
> Bonus: This story takes place in the desert.
> 
> I went off the guidelines (as I usually do) but *shrugs*

Hitoka misses the sea.    
  
It feels like forever since she last saw it, forever since she crossed the world and came to a place without salt strewn waters and dainty little shells, bold seagulls and the comforting crash of waves.   
  
She misses the sea. She misses home.   
  
“Hitoka, come- it is time to dine with our guests.”   
  
Guests, the emissaries from far off forests. She had forgotten about them.   
  
She’s been forgetting a lot lately.   
  
A sigh leaves her- quiet and tired and heavy. She takes one last look out of the palace windows and rakes her eyes over the moon drenched sands outside the city walls. The dunes gleam like pearls to her- soft and quiet and beautiful in their own right. Sometimes at night, when she’s had enough to drink, she can pretend that they’re static waves and that she’s back home- gazing through the window of her room and wrapped up in the comfort of all she’s ever known.   
  
She’s not home, though. She hasn’t been home in so long.   
  
“Hitoka.”   
  
She closes her eyes at the sound of her given name and then blinks them open when a hand lands on her shoulder, slowly turns her head to look up at her husband. Her head feels heavy and everything feels so hard to do- tasks that are impossible but must be done.   
  
Shrewd eyes run over her face and Hitoka almost closes her eyes shut once more under their gaze.   
  
She is just so tired.   
  
“You’re not fit to be out in front of anyone,” Daishou tells her. It is not cold or even cruel, but it does come with a click of a tongue, some hassled tone in his words. It almost makes her wince and there is stray guilt that courses through her, but Hitoka can’t dredge up the proper contrition she owes him.   
  
She’s failing as his wife. He should have traded all his pretty jewels and mountains of gold for someone better.   
  
His hand moves to her cheek and he tilts her head up more, frowns as he looks her over. Hitoka can’t help but lean into the touch- she is just _so tired_ \- and his brow raises high.   
  
“Did you not take your medicine today?” he asks her, thumb pressing into her cheek and slowly smoothing across her flesh. The movement makes Hitoka close her eyes and she imagines- just for a brief moment- that his hands are more rough, scarred from fierce battles and building cabins and scaling the faces of cliffs to reach old temples and pray to strange gods.   
  
Would she be happier in the mountains? Would she be better in a place that still does not have the sea, but instead has cold and snow and fur cloaks and arms that feel like shelter?   
  
She does not know.   
  
She wishes that she did.   
  
A sigh takes her from painful fantasies and Hitoka opens her eyes once more, catches the concern in her husband’s before he locks it away behind calculation.   
  
Daishou is not a bad man, but he is an ambitious one and ambition has no room for tenderness.   
  
More guilt wells up in Hitoka and she almost feels normal with it, almost feels like something human. She reaches up and presses his hand closer to her cheek before he can pull it away and she takes a shaking breath, feels the sudden sting of tears in her eyes.   
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I- I will do better.”   
  
He does not say anything. His eyes run over her and there is quiet surprise in the way his brow furrows, something confused and something shrewd in the set of his lips, the tilt of his head. There is a slow nod given and then his face flicks to something passive, his thumb smooths against her skin once more before he draws his hand away.   
  
“Rest tonight,” Daishou tells her, turning away. “I will make excuses. Join us for breakfast in the morning, though, and take a guard with you to the bazaar after. The commoners are beginning to call you the Ghost Empress and that is unacceptable. You cannot keep languishing in the palace. You must be seen. You must be a presence.”   
  
Ghost Empress? Oh, her step-mother would be so angry if she knew.   
  
Gods, she’s failing so much. She had always wanted to be the queen that her mother had been and she’s nowhere near that. She is a failure. She is _pathetic_.   
  
Tears sting at Hitoka and they cling to her lashes, begin to drip down her face as she tries to stifle the upset that is suddenly tearing through her.   
  
She presses a hand to her mouth and watches through blurry eyes as Daishou pauses at the doorway, desperately blinks to try to clear her tears away in case he turns to face her.   
  
He doesn’t. He stands there lingering in the doorway- lean, regal, and so much more fitting to royalty than Hitoka can ever hope to be. She watches as he breathes in deep and she watches his shoulders straighten, his head lift higher. She thinks he will say something, but then he leaves- silent and without a look back.   
  
She wishes he had turned back.   
  
Hitoka sniffles and tears truly begin to fall, a sob wracks itself from her. There is so much upset in her heart that it begins to overwhelm her and she ends up collapsing onto the bed, ends up sobbing like a child.   
  
She wants to go home. She wants to see her brothers and she wants to visit the temples and she wants to drink honeyed wine and she wants to dance on the sand and she wants to swim in the sea and she wants to _go home_.   
  
It’s not fair. It’s not _fair_.   
  
It’s not fair that she never had a say in this and it’s not fair that she’s living in the desert and it’s not fair that her family traded her off like a pawn in some game and it’s not fair that she has nothing and no one from home and it’s not fair that she has a husband that does not love her and it’s not that she couldn’t at least go to a place and be with a man that made her feel _wanted_.   
  
It’s not fair. None of it is fair.   
  
Hitoka weeps and she sobs and cries in a way she hasn’t allowed herself, bites into a pillow to muffle a shriek of indescribable grief. Far off in the palace and underneath her tears, there is the distant roar of laughter and music and nobles arguing and flirting with each other. It makes everything hurt worse and Hitoka cries harder, cries until her throat is raw and her eyes ache and all she can do is sniffle pathetically.   
  
She’s such a child. She always knew that this was her fate. She always knew that she was a princess- a prize, a peacemaker, a tool for the politics of others. She knew her fate and she knew her duties and she knew that hope was a foolish thing- even if it was strong, even if her father had approved of warm eyes and strong arms, a man draped in furs and leather and decorated with scars and ink.   
  
She has no right to be so upset. She has no right to act like such a spoiled, sullen thing. She was a princess and now she is an empress- she has her duties and she should attend to them.    
  
Gods, though, she still wishes for _home_.   
  
Hitoka sniffles and pushes herself up with shaky arms, swipes off the last of her tears with the backs of her hands. She looks like a wraith when she catches her reflection in the mirror and Hitoka winces at it, turns her head in embarrassment and shame from the image.   
  
This is not who she is supposed to be. This is not what her mother was.   
  
Hitoka needs to do better, she needs to be better. She is still royalty and there are still expectations laid upon her; she does not have the freedom to wallow and lament. She must be a ruler. She must be the empress her new home is waiting for. She must be a good wife to her husband.   
  
She must be better.   
  
Her mother would want her to make the best out of the situation.   
  
Hitoka sniffles a little and tries to clear out the upset still quietly rippling through her. A few last tears slip from her lashes and down her face, coat her lips disappearing. When she peeks her tongue out to wet her lips and wash them away, she tastes salt.   
  
Her tears taste like salt.   
  
They taste like the sea.    
  
Hitoka shudders and she breathes in deep. Her throat feels like fire with it and she swallows hard, forces herself out of bed and toward her decanter of wine. It’s better when she has a drink, so she takes another. And then one more. And then a fourth. Her hands stop shaking on the last and Hitoka rolls her shoulders back, closes her eyes and takes another deep breath.   
  
How could she forget that she carries the sea within her? How could she forget that it twists through her veins, runs through her body and soul?   
  
Hitoka is a daughter of the sea and she will always carry it with her- no matter how far she may stray from its embrace.   
  
Another deep breath and Hitoka flutters lashes open. They are dry now, her eyes, and she is still upset, but there is something calm underneath it- a balm slowly soothing her over. She knows that it may not last and she knows that she is still sick from the misery of missing her home, but she knows just as well that she can’t languish in it any longer.   
  
She is an empress. She must act like one.   
  
Hitoka takes a deep breath- a last one to stabilize her, make her feel more grounded- and she moves to sit down at her vanity, reaches for a comb to run through her hair. It’s snarled and tangled and she must fix it, she must fix the way her grief has wrecked herself.   
  
She hasn’t been doing her best. She hasn’t been acting like an empress should. Her mother would tell her that she is being rude to the kingdom and that it true.   
  
It’s time for her to accept her role.   
  
Hitoka reaches for her bell and rings it, slowly begins to comb through her messy locks as she waits for her maid. It takes a minute, but the woman appears- surprised and wide eyed to be called for the first time since Hitoka has arrived.   
  
Shame floods Hitoka at that and she has to force herself to look over at the woman, force herself to hold her head up high even if her insides tremble.   
  
“Tomorrow I will be attending breakfast and visiting the bazaar,” Hitoka tells her, voice cracking in all the wrong places. It’s humiliating and she can hear her step-mother shrieking from leagues away at the terrible way she is carrying herself, but Hitoka presses on. “I...I am in disarray. I wish for a bath tonight and one in the morning. And- and help dressing tomorrow.”   
  
Oh, she’s faltering so fast. She’s losing any sense of the quiet regality that had flitted through her.   
  
“I...I do not know the fashions to wear,” Hitoka continues on, weakly. “My…” She trails off and takes a deep breath to gather herself, lifts her head up higher from where it had drooped down. “My husband has provided many splendid outfits for me. I would...like your help. In dressing and learning the current trends. And I would like you to accompany me tomorrow to the bazaar and tell me about the people in the city. Please.”   
  
Awkward. It is so awkward how she phrases it. It’s like she had never attended her lessons and like she had never had her governess wrap her with a ruler until she could make smooth speeches.   
  
Hitoka flushes her embarrassment and flushes more when bewilderment crosses over her maid’s face, when a pretty brow wrinkles at the world ‘ _please_.’   
  
“Yes, Your Majesty,” her maid tells her, eyes still wide and words almost breathed out. “I- of course, Your Majesty. It would be an honor.” She curtsies then and Hitoka bites her lip at the familiar gesture, watches as the woman lifts her head but does not meet her gaze. “I will prepare your bath, Your Majesty. May I get you anything else?”   
  
“No, thank you,” Hitoka tells her, shaking her head as she does. The woman dips into another curtsy and begins to slip away to attend to her duties and Hitoka feels a sudden urge well up in her, an almost panicked desire as she opens her mouth and stops the woman with a blurted out “Wait!”   
  
The maid pauses and blinks, long lashes dusting over her cheeks, and Hitoka look away, feels her own turn red when she realizes she doesn’t know what she wishes to say.   
  
“What,” Hitoka starts, her mouth running ahead of her thoughts. “What, um...what is your name?”   
  
Quiet and then a near silent huff of amusement. It is Hitoka’s turn to blink in surprise at it and she looks over to the woman again, catches the hint of a smile on full lips.   
  
“I am Yamaka, Your Grace,” the woman offers up. “Mika Yamaka.”   
  
Mika. It’s a pretty name.   
  
Hitoka nods slowly despite Yamaka’s eyes being directed to the floor and she mouths the name to herself before taking a quiet breath and looking back toward the mirror.   
  
“Thank you,” she tells her, voice soft. “You...you may leave.”   
  
There is a half moment of quiet and then Yamaka begins to move, the bells around her ankles tinkling as she walks away. There is another moment of quiet and it is more sudden, something that has Hitoka glancing up in the mirror and blinking in surprise at the image of her paused maid.   
  
“I am glad you are feeling better, Your Majesty,” Yamaka says, quiet but sincere in a way Hitoka does not expect. “The staff has been worried about you.”   
  
Worried? Someone was worried about her?   
  
Hitoka’s eyes widen and her mouth opens to say something, but Yamaka disappears with a rustling of silk and the soft chime of bells. Hitoka is left to stare at the doorway and she swallows at the reappearance of tears in her eyes, takes a shaky breath and looks back to the mirror.   
  
She should have tried to pull herself together earlier. She’s been such a burden with the way she’s acted.   
  
Hitoka breathes in deep and she closes her eyes, tries to draw on the tired strength resting in her. She needs to push forward. She needs to pull herself together.   
  
She needs to be an empress.   
  
Hitoka opens her eyes slowly and she reaches for her comb once more, runs it through messy hair and turns her thoughts toward her duties.   
  
This is her home now. She needs to do her part of taking care of it.   
  
Even with the sea still calling her.   
  
Hitoka untangles a snarl from her hair and she focuses on an ocean of sand, scorching sun and the people waiting for her to make an appearance.   
  
She focuses on her home. She focuses on her fate.   
  
Outside, the moon shines on dusty desert waves. Inside, the staff quietly gossips about the foreign ghost and how she has risen from her misery. Hitoka combs her hair and her husband plots a war. The nobles laugh and they eat and they smile at each other while scheming how to climb ranks, how to gain more power.   
  
This is Hitoka’s home now.   
  
This is home.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and hello on [my tumblr](https://moramew.tumblr.com/)~


End file.
